The Doomcat
by EruvandeAini
Summary: The twelfth Doctor meets River for the first time again, and takes her on an adventure where some very strange things are happening in a rest home. Someone is picking off people no one will miss. Can the Doctor stop it? And will River get used to her husband's new... everything?


"River," he whispered, brushing a tangled curl away from her face. "Why does this always have to be so difficult?"

She looked up at him, tall and slim, his grey curls a little too long. "Why do you want it to be any easier?"

He broke her gaze then, and smiled ruefully. "Because I know how it ends, River, and I know a bit of ease is something to be cherished."

She shook her head. "I never want easy. Not with you, never with you."

He was standing a little distance from her, close enough to touch, and yet apart from that brief stroke of her forehead, he didn't. She took a small step closer and he instinctively stepped back.

"What's that matter with you?" She laughed, stepping forward again, her hand landing on his shoulder, and he flinched.

"I'm… I'm not a hugger," he said starkly, moving her hand from his shoulder. But he didn't let go of it, preferring instead to tenderly bring it to his mouth, where he kissed it lightly and then put it back at her side. He watched her face fall, and then a quizzical frown creased her brow.

"This regeneration, you mean?"

He nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"Doesn't mean I…" he faltered. He took another step backwards, a leap really, towards the TARDIS, which he then grandly gestured towards. "Are you coming then? Or is the sight of me enough to send you snapping back on a vortex manipulator and running in the opposite direction?"

She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "You're joking, right?"

oOo

In the TARDIS the familiar noises whirred and buzzed. It was never silent in there. River looked around at the new décor and nodded.

"So you do clutter now?" She observed.

"All perfectly catalogued, I assure you," the Doctor replied, hands in pockets, the red flash of his coat lining visible.

She watched him for a moment. "So what do you think?" He asked.

"It's different. I like it," she told him, and he wasn't sure if she was talking about the TARDIS interior. There was a beat, a moment where they just looked at one another.

"It's good to see you," he said, before briskly pulling his hands out of his pockets and clapping them together. "Right, time to go!"

He began pulling and adjusting levers and buttons, and River came round beside him and looked at the TARDIS databank as they took off.

"You already know where we're going?" she asked.

"I always know where I'm going."

"Liar."

"Just twist the helmic regulator a quarter turn, woman," he said, distractedly.

There was the crunching, grinding sound as they landed, and River looked at him, eyebrow crooked. He shook his head and smiled. "I _know_ the brakes are on, I _like_ the noise."

He stood up straight, turned smartly and strode towards the door. River instinctively checked her weapon, slung casually round her hips, and ran after him.

Outside the doors, it was dimly lit and quieter. There was a strong smell of soap and disinfectant. The Doctor fished his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and held it up, glowing green in the half light. He looked at the display for a moment and narrowed his gaze.

"An enormous spike in energy over the past few days," he muttered. "A correlation with artron energy which is not," he raised his eyebrows, "…something I expect in a place like this."

"A place like what? Where are we?" River whispered.

Suddenly a cat streaked past them in the corridor, white and sleek. The Doctor threw a glance at River and flashed a gleeful smile at her. "Come on!" He said, and took off after the cat.

"Doctor!" River hissed as she followed close behind, almost bumping into him as he stopped dead at the corner of the next corridor. There were doors on either side of the corridor, and a few had light bleeding out from under then. Third door down, the white cat had laid itself out like a draft excluder, twisting it's head round to preen itself. Inside the room, there was a sound of choking and spluttering. Abandoning any pretence of subterfuge, the Doctor marched up to the door and the cat scrambled away.

He tried the door, and it opened with slight squeak. Inside, the room was furnished cosily and a bedside lamp, pink and floral, was the only light. The bed was by the window, and in it lay an old woman. The Doctor crept in, while River waited at the open door. He glanced at the sonic and then put it back in his pocket, preferring instead to reach out with his right hand and check the old woman's neck. His shoulders slumped slightly.

"What is it?" River asked.

"She's dead," he said.

"Dead?!" said a voice behind them.


End file.
